Wild is not quite the word for “The Wildness.” This tuneful, thin-skinned production, which opened on Monday night at Ars Nova with the subtitle “Sky-Pony’s Rock Fairy Tale,” often feels as cozy as the giant patchwork quilt that canopies its runway of a set.

This is perhaps appropriate for a work, a co-production with the Play Company, that seeks to dispel the demons of doubt that plague sensitive souls navigating early adulthood. “We are just like you,” the ensemble members sing in the show’s opening number, extending their hands to the audience. “We are searching, too; we all are, we all do. We are the lost ones.”

Just who “we” are would appear to be that latter-day lost generation known as the “agnostic, generally apathetic millennials,” as the production’s fetching and visibly pregnant lead singer, Lauren Worsham, puts it in a sort of prologue to the show that follows.

“It’s hard for any of us to know where to turn these days,” she continues. “There are so many rituals out there, but they all feel like they’re for someone else.”

And so Ms. Worsham — or the fictional version of her, also named Lauren — and her longtime friends have created their own annual rite of purging and healing to commemorate the beginning of the new year. They dress up in sexy storybook costumes (designed by Tilly Grimes) and retell, in pulsing song, a tale that was invented by the charismatic center of their group, Michael, when he was a boy. One glitch, though: This year Michael hasn’t shown up, and no one knows what has happened to him.

Written by the composer Kyle Jarrow and Ms. Worsham — a husband-and-wife team who also lead the Brooklyn rock band Sky-Pony — and directed by Sam Buntrock, “The Wildness” is a cross between an exorcism and a wake. As forbidding as that description may sound, the show is also as cuddly as a well-worn plush toy.

For in facing down the complexities of being grown-up, which include acknowledging the inevitably of death, “The Wildness” retreats to the sanctuary of childhood. (This sensibility is evidently not uncommon to the age group portrayed here; my niece and nephew, in their early 30s, still sleep with their stuffed animals.)

Kris Stone’s set is festooned with objects, including a dangling bag of candy, a pair of daddy boots and a dollhouse. And as the show’s central fable unfolds — about a princess and her adoring handmaiden (portrayed by Ms. Worsham) who dare to venture into the forbidden woods beyond their sequestered kingdom — videos (by Alex Basco Koch) are projected of images assembled out of a toy chest.

Usually, it’s Michael who plays the princess, Ada. This year, his tutu is filled by his sister (Lilli Cooper), who admits she is angered and bewildered by his absence. The narrative is periodically interrupted by confessionals from cast members (and two audience volunteers), who share their doubts and fears in the style of 12-steppers.

As you may have gathered, “The Wildness” — which sometimes brings to mind a pastel variation of the baby-boomer-angst flick “The Big Chill” — is thick on whimsy. Though there’s occasional talk of how drunk and out of control this ritual has been known to become, there’s nothing here that would be unsuitable for a grade-schooler.

Featuring other members of Sky-Pony, the 90-minute production has been smoothly and attractively staged, with neatly synchronized choreography by Chase Brock that makes the most of limited space. Though the songs are fully amplified, they are seldom electric in any but the literal sense of that word. They are loud and bouncy and easy on the ear, and they are especially well sung by Ms. Cooper and Ms. Worsham (who received a Tony nomination for “A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder”).

The show’s treacle content is leavened by the sense of genuine pain that courses through the music toward the end. Ms. Worsham has a knockout ballad, “Beautiful Monster,” which explores the nasty possessiveness of love. And the defiantly exultant concluding number, “Everyone Will Die,” suggests that a barricade of toys and blankets ultimately offers feeble protection from the big, wild world.